The Girl With The Pearls
by PrincessOfSparta
Summary: A young girl in the streets of Paris decides that there is more to life than surviving, yet with nobody to turn to, it is all she can do to exist. But the Court of Miracles offers something new; friends, company - will she continue alone, or change her life forever for a chance at happiness? K for some action/violence in chapter two.
1. Chapter One

**The girl with the pearls**

**Chapter one: Florence**

A girl, barley twelve years old – and small for her age at that – weaves deftly through the crowded streets. Nobody notices the child with the straggly blonde hair, a bedraggled cloth tied around her torso. Nobody cares about the girl with no father – why should they? The streets bustle with life, women of the town haunting each corner, but nobody knows her here, nobody recognises her young face, and though the city is filled with people, she is alone. It isn't to say she didn't like it that way – she relished the ability to slip by inconspicuously, and was content in her own company.

She barely glances at the path, knowing the way instinctively. These streets were her home. Not a penny to her name, not a soul to rely on, she lived on her wits. Turning to crime to survive, she took only what she needed; an apple, and hunk of cheese, a slab of bread – nothing fancy, nothing expensive, though undoubtable she would easily have been able to slip away gold, jewellery, just about anything she wanted, undetected.

Her birth name, Florence, was long forgotten. It didn't belong to her anymore; she hadn't been addressed by it for as long as she could remember. Florence. It had a strange ring to it, it felt distant. Florence was a different person. Florence was a younger girl, with neat plaited hair tied with ribbons, a dress trimmed with lace, and a pearl necklace hugging her throat. Five years was a long time to be nameless, unknown.

Five years was a long time to live alone, out on the streets, and there came a time when the young girl needed something to change. She was lost, lost in the streets she knew so well she could walk blindfolded and find her way. She had grown tired of only her own company; the streets of Paris are lonely if you are alone. There was a place she knew, but it had never crossed her mind to make her home. Now, though, now she needed the reassurance of someone by her side, to make her feel less alone. She could have survived on her own, but she could never live that way.

The Court of Miracles - the home of disease and hunger, the birthplace of poverty, the school of crime.

Pickpockets, prostitutes, cons and thieves – even assassins, although it was mostly thugs and petty criminals, survived on crime, just as she had done. These people had a home in the city, they had friends, both of which she longed for again.

Two boys with dark skin mulled over the spoils of that day – some cloth, a ring, an assortment of pretty, useless things. One looked up, he was younger than the other – perhaps fourteen, but she couldn't be sure. They could have been brothers, but weren't. The younger boy, with long curly hair and enchanting eyes, raised his head as she walked by, and smiled. He had seen her. He had acknowledged her existence. The girl, who had been invisible for years, living in the shadows, glowed inside.

**Hey, so thanks for reading this - I hope you liked it :) Please leave a review, it would mean a lot to me if you did as it's always exciting to see someone has taken the time to give a bit of feedback. Thank you - Sophia**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The girl froze, unable to respond with more than an awkward smile. Unsure of what to do, she spun on her heels and ran. The narrow alleyways were unfamiliar; every person she saw was a stranger. She had no idea where the winding streets would lead her, but she continued regardless. The streets became a blur, and the unknown faces merged into each other. A shout from behind rang in her ears, and she halted, breathless.

Caught up in the realisation that she was lost, the young girl did not notice the boy approaching her, and jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, why did you run?"

She flinched away from the expectant eyes awaiting her reply, and mumbled,

"Why did you follow me?"  
The boy shrugged, and stepped forwards, "I'm Porthos. What's your name?"

"Fl…." The girl stumbled, "fl.."

"Call her Flea." The second, slightly older, boy sniggered. "They're both small, and irritating."  
Porthos shoved him. "Ignore Charon. He's an idiot."  
Receiving a playful, but sharp nonetheless, blow to the shoulder for the comment, Porthos grinned, "C'mon Flea, we'll show you round."

The two boys leapt up, with Flea following shakily. They led her through the winding maze of alleys with assurance, a confidence that she recognised. These streets were there home, as Paris had been hers, and they could walk them blindfolded.

Flea didn't look back at the crossroads as she walked away.

Constantly checking the surroundings, though everything looked the same to her, Flea followed duly until Porthos stopped, and beckoned her to sit.

"You're not from round here, are-"

That was as far as he got before he was interrupted. Flea didn't know who this guy was, but she certainly knew he was intimidating.

"We don't seem to have met" he snarled at Flea, "let me introduce myself. I'm in charge around here." He stepped towards her, and she looked anxiously to Porthos for reassurance. The boy grabbed his hand around her throat, and thrust her against the wall, "Don't forget that."

Porthos flew at him, his hands clenched into fists and his face contorted with anger. A solid blow to the jaw stunned the older boy, who dropped the wide-eyed Flea and turned to face his aggressor. Flexing his muscles, he let his eyes flicker over the much smaller Porthos in disgust.

The boy was heavily built, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. Jesper's gang of onlookers were amazed that such a small boy would dare challenge Jesper, and outraged that he should try. Porthos was stocky, small, and had no chance of winning a brawl with the most vicious fighter of the court.

He tensed in anticipation, but did not back away. Perhaps his greatest virtue was his bravery, though it would also be a flaw which would cause him much pain. The blows came hard and fast; some he blocked, but most fell painfully on his jaw or chest. Porthos stumbled and fell, but his attacker did not refrain. Jesper, to the encouragement of the gang behind him, rained kicks upon the boy. Porthos grit his teeth and winced at each sharp burst of pain.

Charon and Flea watched in agony as Porthos received blow after blow without so much as crying out. Compelled to help him, but intimidated by Jesper, Flea was forced to do nothing while Porthos lay crumpled on the ground.

A last kick to the groin satisfied Jesper, who turned smugly to the entourage of thugs behind him, and strode away.

"Jesper's a prat." Charon laughed in disbelief, as Flea rushed towards the motionless figure on the floor. The girl attempted to pull Porthos to his feet, but to no avail: he was out, cold.

**Thank you for reading :)**


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